


Believe Me

by siba



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Former Jeanmarco, Jean Is A Little Shit, Jean Kirstein Being An Asshole, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siba/pseuds/siba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A song-fic based off of Sam Smith's song Not in that way. It's originally created for EreJean week, for April 1st where the prompt is Music. It just follows the story of how Jean makes an ass of himself and falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believe Me

And I hate to say I love you  
When it's so hard for me  
And I hate to say I want you

In the aftermath of it all, looking back on the situation from the comfort of his couch, where he was wrapped under pounds of blankets in order to keep away the pain in his chest, Jean hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Despite what others thought of his intentions in the beginning. At the time, it wasn’t supposed to be anything longer than a week; a stupid bet made between the ash-blonde and his bald counterpart, although connie claimed that he wasn’t bald. It was idiotic beyond belief, made in a drunken stupor and sworn to secrecy between the two boys and Sasha. If Jean dated Eren for a week, all he needed was a week to get a hundred dollars and win back his pride he had previously lost from being dumped like a sack of potatoes nearly a year before.   
So Jean took it. He took the damn bet because he couldn’t stand the idea of his friends mocking him even more about something that no one could get over. So what if he and Marco had broken up? It wasn’t because of Jean anyways, it was because Marco was going halfway around the damn world to study abroad for four years in Chile. It had been mutual anyways; but for Connie and Sasha, mutual breakups didn’t exist.   
It all started with one text the next morning, in the midst of a splitting migraine and a half empty bottle of water being nursed by the blonde and brunette. ‘Hey man, let’s go out for dinner tonight.’ The bet started whenever Jean got the balls to ask Eren out, from that point on all he would need to do is stomach it for seven days. But of course the first problem was getting Eren to say yes when they had clearly been at each other's throat for nearly seven years, ever since the beginning of high school when the brunette had shoved Jean into a locker on accident.   
He got a reply shortly enough, a confirmation that they would go out to dinner at seven and meet at this local Italian place that Jean had heard the brat mention once more twice. When the time came that Jean was sitting at the restaurant, a bowl full of breadsticks steaming in front of him and his shaking hands on the badly painted table, he had half a mind just to peel out of there and never speak of the incident again. What the fuck was he doing? He was a shaking mess. He’d spent an hour picking out an outfit and trying to calm the rat’s nest that was his hair. Even then, he still looked like he rolled out of bed, put on a nice shirt and jacket over some jeans and come to the restaurant. To put it simply, he looked like a douche-bag. At least that’s what he’d told himself as he looked in his bedroom mirror, with five minutes to spare before he had to be at his ‘date’.   
Eren was a few moments late, which of course didn’t get by the criticism of Jean; causing the inevitable banter between them that always happened. After all, Connie once said the bickered like an old married couple.  
“...What the hell did you bring me here for?” Eren finally asks with a raised eyebrow and a mouth full of breadsticks that Jean was nearly sure he was going to choke on and die. Would he get his one-hundred bucks if Eren died?  
“I, uh-..” Shit, why was he here again? “I wanted to ask you something.” He says simply, keeping his hands below the table, since their ordered meals hadn’t yet come. Of course he was kind of glad that he hadn’t eaten thanks to the nausea that resonated in his stomach and made him feel like he was going to blow chunks at any moment. That would be romantic, asking an old nemesis out by vomiting on him.  
“Do you...want to go out with me?” Jean finally manages to mutter, even though he sounded pissed, his amber eyes were trained on the table and his hands were clenching at his thighs below the table in such a manner that indicated he was either vomiting or nervous as hell. But at that rate it could have been either or.   
Eren just sat there for several seconds, which in turn felt like an eternity as Jean imagines what it would be like to stab himself in the jugular with his fork and not have to deal with all of this bullshit. Fuck Connie. Fuck that bet. Fuck his nerves.   
“You’re not shitting me are you?” It took ten minutes and thirteen seconds to convince Eren that this wasn’t a prank, that Connie wasn’t standing behind some pillar and about to should ‘In your face!’, just to run off with the videotape and hold it against them for years to come. It took all that time just to wrongfully convince Eren that Jean was serious about asking him out and that in fact he wanted nothing more than to go out with the brat. It took some more convincing until Eren finally agreed, on the condition that Jean would let him choose where they went on their second date.   
Jean will forever claim that he smiled in relief that Eren had agreed, so he could win his hundred dollars and not at the notion of going on a second date with Eren Jaeger. 

And I hate to say I need you  
I'm so reliant  
I'm so dependent  
I'm such a fool

It wasn’t as bad as Jean expected. Quite frankly, it wasn’t bad at all. After that first dinner, Jean set his clock for seven days exactly. He figured it would just be seven days of texting Eren the standard ‘Good morning babe’ and making flirty jokes, that’s all he knew how to do really. But the first day, when Eren invited Jean out to lunch, the blonde genuinely enjoyed himself as they talked about the new Call of Duty and insulting each other to the point that Eren ended up throwing a pickle at Jean as a joke to get him to shut up about Eren’s complete lack of ability at playing Call of Duty. The food fight ended when Jean launched a glob of Ketchup at Eren which somehow managed to land in his eye. So for the next forty-five minutes they stood in the bathroom, covered in food and laughing while Jean carefully wiped away the ketchup from not only Eren’s eye, but his hair, chest, and neck. On one particularly difficult strand of hair, Jean had to lean up on his tiptoes a bit, since eren was sitting on the counter of the bathroom. It brought their lips dangerously close, something that he didn’t notice until Eren leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the surprisingly soft lips of Jean Kirschtein. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was saccharine sweet and left Jean Kirschtein an addict to those lips.  
There were a few more stolen kisses during the rest of their date, which consisted of Eren cleaning off the mayonnaise from Jean’s nice white button down shirt and commenting how nice he looked in it. Jean was nice enough to drive Eren home, giving him one more addicting kiss before they departed ways, only to text for the rest of the night until the early hours of the morning.   
They met many times that week between classes and homework, and once or twice they would get caught up in each other and begin making out ontop of their homework. The worst was when Jean needed to finish one particular math assignment an hour before class, and it was used as a pillow instead while he and Eren made out on his bed until he finally had to run out in order to get to class.   
It was stupid how much he wanted to be with Eren, he realized in the middle of his Psychology class as they were talking about attraction and the markers behind it. All of which Jean found himself exhibiting in regards to Eren, especially those that indicated that he wanted to spend more and more time with the brunette, despite how much they bickered and made fun of eachother. It was such a middle-school way of flirting, and he knew it all too well; but had they unintentionally been flirting with each other for years? It was something he would ask himself over and over, time and time again as he walked back to his apartment to find a rather pleasant surprise. There stood Eren, in some sweatpants, a hoodie and with Jean’s favorite, deliciously unhealthy chinese food. This bastard knew him well.   
“It’s Friday, we need to celebrate that you didn’t die.” Eren claims with a slight smile before he continues to shovel the Broccoli and Steak in his mouth like there was no tomorrow. There was only two days left for the bet. But after all the days of hand-holding, despite how Eren grumbled (Truth be told, Jean did it on purpose in the beginning to make him embarrassed, but ended up liking it himself), the days of kisses stolen when no-one was looking, the moments of pure bliss at just being able to confide in someone and get a hug when he felt stressed, after all of that the arrangement wasn’t so bad. It was then, with Eren cuddled up next to him on his couch complaining of a food baby, that Jean decided that he didn’t need the bet. He’d call Connie in the morning and tell him it was off. No one would ever have to know that Jean went into this with the intentions of scheming a hundred bucks off of his best friends.   
Their once innocent cuddles turned into not so innocent kisses, which turned into plain indecent groping and making out in the middle of Jean’s living room. It was Eren’s first time with a guy, so they went slow that night. Various sounds filled the air of Jean’s bedroom, low gasping and moans that eventually turned into high pitched begs for pleasure, pleading to go faster and go harder as the two rather inexperienced young men consummated their love in maybe the loudest manner possible. But their voices, Jean swore, were like music to his ears. Every sound was like an instrument, finely tuned and beautifully contributing to the symphony that was their love-making. Despite how awkward it was in the beginning, it got better. Much better even as the night continued and they finally fell asleep in a warm embrace beneath the blankets of Jean’s bed. 

When you're not there  
I find myself singing the blues  
Can't bear  
Can't face the truth

The next morning was a blur because of how quickly everything happened. Jean hadn’t even noticed that Eren got up to make them breakfast since the activities from the night before left him exhausted. How the hell Eren found out, Jean didn’t know until later. A drunken Connie had texted Mikasa, and in turn Mikasa had called Eren while he and Jean had been sleeping peacefully in the warmth of their embrace. Before he knew it, Jean was being assaulted with a cacophony of sounds, shouting, cursing and pillows being thrown at his half-conscious self as well as a few articles of clothing.   
There were tears running down Eren’s cheeks, the once clear emerald’s that made up his eyes were cloudy with a deadly combination of tears and anger. “Is this all just a fucking bet, Jean?!” He screams just before chucking another piece of Jean’s bed at him, he thought that one was a smaller pillow but he didn’t really focus on the details.   
“Eren, calm down. It was just a stupid bet I didn’t-” That’s all he really needed to say for Eren to throw another pillow at Jean’s head with an immense force. Eren had already dressed himself when he got up, so all he did was slip on his shoes and storm out before Jean even had boxers on. By the time that Jean was coherent enough to have pants on and try to talk to Eren, he was gone.

I'd never ask you  
'Cause deep down I'm certain I know what you'd say  
You'd say I'm sorry  
Believe me  
I love you

That’s how Jean Kirschtein ended up sitting on his couch, curled up under piles of blankets and trying repeatedly to get ahold of Eren. All he wanted to tell him was that he meant everything he did and said, every whispered word, every promise of admiration and stupid backwards praise by means of insult. That was all him and how much he truly cared for Eren. It wasn’t some fucking bet that he didn’t care about anymore. Time after time, were his calls rejected, his texts left on unseen and no replies came from anyone remotely close to the brunette; including Armin, who didn’t have a mean bone in his body.   
After three days of feeling sorry for himself, Jean got up and drove to Eren’s shared apartment. Besides that he was nearly killed by the insanely irate Mikasa for hurting her brother and only saved because Armin was nice enough to stop her, Jean wasn’t nervous as he knocks on Eren’s bedroom door.  
“Go the fuck away.” He sounded like he hadn’t stopped crying since leaving Jean’s apartment for his voice was hoarse and scratchy. “Eren, It’s me-” Jean manages to say without stuttering; so much for not being nervous.   
“Listen,.. I’m sorry.” His tone was surely shaky as hell, his hands were once more balled into fists in the pockets of his hoodie and he was shaking just as badly as he had been when he asked Eren to be his boyfriend. “I love you. I really do.” With that, he moves so that his forehead rested against the wood of Eren’s bedroom door with a soft thud. For a moment, there was a heavy silence between the two while Jean fights to find the right words to soothe both of their aching hearts. “I asked you out because of that bet and-...” A short pause was filled only by the sound of a soft sniffle on Eren’s side of the door. “..It was stupid, I’m a moron I know. But everything else was me. It’s because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you-”  
Every second in which Jean waited felt like ten thousands years, but he would wait. His waiting even paid off, for just a few seconds later, Eren opened the door to his bedroom. Once more were his emerald eyes filled with tears, but it was tears of relief that ran down his tanned cheeks whilst he launched himself at the man in front of him for a bone crushing hug. “You asshole.”

You'd say I'm sorry  
Believe me  
I love you


End file.
